


Indulgence

by jenetic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But tagged like this because why not, Drabble, Fluff, If You Squint - Freeform, Just Dean Smith, M/M, Not two Deans, Punk Castiel, cut me some slack, literally so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenetic/pseuds/jenetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as anyone knows, Dean Smith is not a man of indulgence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

As far as anyone knows, Dean Smith is not a man of indulgence. Dean Smith lives a simple, healthful life. He’s a respectable man, always on time and never one to screw around. He strolls through Sandover’s doors at promptly nine o’clock each morning and clocks out somewhere around five, pinstriped shirt and slacks still perfectly pressed, even after the long work day. His tie was rarely askew. Dean Smith ate lunch at his desk—always a salad—or sometimes didn’t eat at all. The damned Master Cleanse again, because he “needs to lose those ten pounds,” but he never does. It’s all very prim, proper. Clean. Too clean. No one questions him, however. No one forces the man to have a slice of cake at a company party and no one visits his apartment in fear of interrupting his Project Runway marathon. Dean Smith is a man that no one could hate, but everyone wonders why he’s content with how pristine it is.

And that’s where Cas comes in.

Castiel Novak is a force to be reckoned with, all mussed hair and baby blue eyes and a shy smile that could melt the coldest heart. He’s a bookstore clerk, and the kind of Good Samaritan that would help a frail elderly woman across the street. Sometimes he gets out of bed at six in the morning, and sometimes not until noon. Castiel Novak wears dark, tight jeans and whatever button up he deems clean enough, along with old Chuck Taylor’s that he’s probably had since he was a teenager. He eats lunch in the park across the street from his workplace, simply because he likes watching the ducks in the pond, and because there’s a damn good hot dog stand. He is the complete opposite of Dean Smith, in almost every way imaginable. And people do question him. They question why he looks so happy, how he can afford such an apartment on a salary like that.

It all leads back to Dean. Vonnegut loving, accidentally flirtatious Dean.

They say love at first sight is just a myth, but Castiel would like to say otherwise. Cas would tell them to shove it, that he absolutely adored everything about his boyfriend from the moment he met him. And maybe that’s why Dean can never lose those ten pounds, because Cas likes his soft belly too much and feeds him ice cream on the couch during Project Runway. And yeah, maybe Dean is a man of indulgence. But only when it came to certain things. A.K.A, Castiel. He was always happy to indulge in that, especially after a long business trip. Dean hated flying.

In fact, as he set his keys in the dish and huffed out a sigh, his drug of choice came padding down the hall. Cas leaned against the wall with a sleepy look, t-shirt rucked up on one side and grey sweatpants falling off of his skinny hips. Heavenly.

“Hello, Dean.” The man whispered, as if not to wake anyone. It was well past midnight, but no one was in the apartment to disturb. Dean liked it anyway; the quiet. It was intimate.

“Hey, Cas.” He said back, just as softly, allowing his briefcase to fall to the floor. That was the signal, apparently, and then Castiel was all over him. Hands in his hair, on his cheeks, loosening his tie—everywhere, all at once. But that was Cas.

“I missed you.” The shorter breathed into his lover’s neck and pressed a quick kiss there. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, honey.” And it wasn’t a pet name, not really. It was something Dean called Cas because Cas had a weird fascination with bees, and it wasn’t cliché, because only they knew the hidden meaning. Dean felt a smile against his shoulder. “Was goin’ crazy out there,” he continued, letting his hands slide up Castiel’s back and under his t-shirt. “Couldn’t even touch you, had to tie my own ties. Eat my damn salad like everything was fine.”

“But you’re back.” Cas reminded him quietly. And he smiled. Dean smiled because Cas always grounded him, kept his head on. He kissed his boy on the lips, chaste and happy. Dean loved him. So he told him so.

“I love you.” Another genuine grin.

“I love you, too.” His tie was flattened against his chest gently as Cas worried his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. “You look good in blue. I was beginning to fear that you actually thought pink was your colour.” And Dean laughed, a breathy, careless chuckle, because the man before him was truly the best thing to ever happen to him.

“It’s not very becoming on me, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d still be coming on you even if all you wore was pink.” Cas earned himself a playful punch to the arm for that one.

“You’re terrible.” Dean mused jokingly, allowing himself to be pulled down by the back of the neck for another kiss. “But I love you.” He mumbled again. And even though he needed to be at work in the morning with—preferably—eight hours of sleep, it didn’t really matter anymore. Castiel had undone the knot in Dean’s tie, sliding the silk out from underneath his collar, and began unbuttoning the light blue dress shirt adorning his boyfriend. “Love you so much, Cas.” Dean flushed, felt his ears heat up while he pressed more quick pecks to the older man’s smiling mouth.

“I take it back.” Castiel said, quiet voice with a playful tone. He pulled away just slightly and moved his hands up to cup Dean’s face, running his thumbs over freckled cheeks. “Pink looks nice on you.” And Dean blushed some more, let Cas kiss him breathless while they stumbled towards the couch.

As far as anyone knows, Dean Smith is not a man of indulgence. Well, anyone but Cas.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Destiel standalone/drabble I have ever written, and my first post on AO3. I hope you liked it!


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